Bedrooms & Bars

Bedrooms & Bars

a play in two acts

by Charles Deemer

First performed at the Raindog Playwrights' Project in Portland, Oregon, on February 13, 1998. Directed by Charles Deemer.

Finalist for the 1998 Oregon Book Award.

THE CAST:

Quinn, a barfly, ex-teacher, 30s

Deadra, a barfly, 30s

Megan, Deadra's twin sister (played by same actress)

THE SETTING:

Table in a bar. Quinn's small studio apartment. A hospital bed. A ferry deck.

THE TIME:

The 1980s.

ACT ONE

1/ The Bar, Saturday Night. Early 1980's.

(AT RISE: QUINN and DEADRA sit at a table. Each has a fresh drink.)

QUINN: Thanks for the drink.

DEADRA: You're very welcome.

QUINN: I'm Quinn.

DEADRA: I know. Deadra

QUINN: I know. Cheers.

DEADRA: Cheers.

(They drink.)

QUINN: Where's what's-his-name?

DEADRA: I'm not sure who you mean.

QUINN: The guy I always see you with.

DEADRA: You'd think someone like that would ring a bell, wouldn't you? I have no idea who you mean.

QUINN: The guy you go with.

DEADRA: I don't go with anyone.

QUINN: You're in here a lot together. He's always betting on games.

DEADRA: George?

QUINN: George, right.

 DEADRA: He left town last week. He got a new job.

QUINN: You two aren't an item?

DEADRA: Heavens, no. We're just buddies.

QUINN: That's encouraging.

DEADRA: In what way?

QUINN: When you make your move on me, I can say yes without a guilty conscience.

DEADRA: You don't beat around the bush.

QUINN: Bullshit's not part of my nature.

DEADRA: Sorry to disappoint you, Quinn, but I won't be making a move on you.

QUINN: Win a few, lose a few.

DEADRA: Are you always so direct?

QUINN: Always.

DEADRA: At least you're not "a secretive Scorpio." I have this thing about meeting Scorpio men. It always gets me in trouble.

QUINN: Bingo.

DEADRA: No.

QUINN: November 1st.

DEADRA: Please tell me you're kidding.

QUINN: Would I kid about being the sign of the genitals? What about you?

DEADRA: Guess.

QUINN: Actually, I've never asked anyone their sign before.

DEADRA: Don't ask — guess.

QUINN: Not a clue.

DEADRA: You've seen me in here a lot. You should have some impression about me.

QUINN: We've never talked before.

DEADRA: Why is that? Are you shy?

QUINN: You're usually in here with George. And now suddenly you're foot loose and fancy free.

DEADRA: I've always been that. The question is, how come you never talked to me before?

QUINN: We never ended up on adjacent barstools.

DEADRA: Which is surprising since whenever I walk in the door, you're here.

QUINN: Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?

DEADRA: I see you have a great affection for clichés.

QUINN: Only great writing becomes a cliché. Otherwise we forget it as soon as we hear it.

DEADRA: And you're a student of great writing.

QUINN: I'm a writer of bad verse, which gives me great appreciation for the good stuff.

DEADRA: Do you publish?

QUINN: I don't even send anything out.

DEADRA: That sounds like fear of rejection.

QUINN: I write for myself. It's a very noble tradition.

DEADRA: But you deprive the public of enjoying your work.

QUINN: If you'd read my stuff, you wouldn't say that. I write for an audience of one.

DEADRA: Too bad. If you had a book out, I could take it home to bed.

QUINN: Why take the poetry when you can take the poet?

DEADRA: I'm not picking you up, Quinn.

QUINN: The night's still young.

Read the play.